Am I Immune to the Ultimate Love Story?

This morning, my husband and I were watching the morning news. Well, I was, my husband was putting on his shoes. It was a slow news morning so they had a fluff piece on about some newlyweds. They were going through old vacation photo albums of the wife's. In a picture, they showed the girl at Disneyland standing next to one of the seven dwarfs....or do we call them little people too? Anywho, the husband saw his father standing behind the posing dwarf. In front of the father was a stroller which held the husband! They'd never met. The wife was from Florida and the husband was from Canada.

It was fate. They were 5 years old in the picture. The father looked as if he was looking into the camera. The newscasters were "awwing and ooohing" during the entire story. My response?


Now my husband, isn't a romantic. He knows that kind of shit is wasted on me. My response prompted a sigh and an eye roll. "You don't think that is the coolest love story ever?"

I don't. It's peculiar but I didn't turn all warm and gushy. I mean, come on! We all know this is a small world and stranger things have happened. Of course, I don't really believe in fate. If fate were real, I'd be with somebody else right now. But why is it that this love story didn't prompt gushy feelings of true love?

I have a couple friends that have great loves. Their love makes me want to vomit. Not because I hate them. Because love makes me wanna vomit. I loathe the term "making love." In fact, that whole combination throws me into a scowl and an eye roll. Seriously, let's just call it what it is. Nowhere in that whole act am I "making love." Cause if that's "love" and I'm "making" it, love is truly a dirty thing. :)

Is there something wrong with that? Am I the only one that thinks that? Please tell me I'm not. I need some company here.

Me and the girls are off to Six Flags today. Yes, I'm crazy. But we had planned this before M was diagnosed with diabetes. I have made a promise that I won't hold us back from fun. Even though, this day would've sucked before the diagnosis, it's going to be a little harder. My backpack weighs over 15 pounds. When I walk a mile with this backpack on, I have a feeling I'll finally remember why I have a husband. Ah, true love....carry my backpack now. ;) Happy Hump Day!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

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